


Vanilla

by zams



Series: Ice Cream Shop AU [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), My Chemical Romance, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Crossover, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zams/pseuds/zams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scene from an alternate reality in which Tommy and Frank work in an ice cream shop and Adam and Gerard are two of the shop's best (and only) customers.</p><p><em>When Frank comes back from his lunch break with Gerard, Tommy learns more about their sex life than he ever wanted to know. And also that Frank's a dumbass, but he already knew that.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to 'thebigmachines' on LJ for beta'ing and to 'lizibabes' on LJ for listening to me babble incessantly about this fic.

\---

Frank's strangely quiet when he comes back from his lunch break over at Gerard's studio. Usually, he's hyperactive after spending time with Gerard, bouncing off the walls and talking a mile a minute, so happy and bubbly and excitable that Tommy wants to puke.

This time, he does a double take when he sees Frank obviously limping. "The fuck!" he says, and he stops wiping the counter to stare.

"What?" Frank mumbles, heading straight for the back room quicker than his limp would suggest. Tommy follows him, right on his heels. Frank fiddles with putting his apron on, keeping his back to Tommy, clearly trying to avoid looking at him.

Like Frank’s obvious embarrassment is going to stop Tommy. This is too fucking good. "Got a little rough today, did he?" he asks, and he doesn't even try to hide his smirk. He's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and both eyebrows raised when Frank finally turns around. He's even fucking _blushing_ and Tommy just wants to cackle with glee.

Tommy tries to stifle his laughter because Frank _is_ his best friend and he shouldn't tease so much, but it's so fucking hard to resist when Frank makes it so easy.

Frank glares at him. "Shut the hell up," he snaps, brushing past Tommy and going back out into the main room.

Yeah, that’s definitely not going to happen.

"Gerard seriously did that to you?" he asks, following Frank again. Tommy's actually amazed. "He's like, as rough as a fucking kitten. Are you telling me he's an animal in the sack? I don't think I can believe it, even with you limping." He throws his hands up. "For fuck's sake, he orders plain vanilla - not even French vanilla! - in a _dish_ when he actually consumes something other than coffee and cigarettes."

"That's stereotyping," Frank says haughtily, pursing his lips. "For your information, Gerard _is_ an animal in the sack, so you can just be jealous and shut the fuck up now."

With that (and one last glare), Frank goes behind the counter and starts checking supplies needlessly - Tommy had one customer while Frank was gone; they’re hardly going to be out of spoons or cones.

Tommy can't let this go. It's a fucking oxymoron. Gerard and rough sex don't belong together; he's too adorable for that. When he used to come in before he and Frank finally consummated their nauseating courtship, he would blush when Frank would smile at him, flirting by leaning toward Frank and gently touching his hands and smiling shyly at him, and sometimes he would get all excited, arms flailing and face flushed when he and Frank were talking, mostly about music or art.

"But you've been fucking for weeks now," Tommy says. The fucking _limp_ , man. Jesus. He can’t get over it. "If he’s such an animal in the sack, how come you haven't been limping already?"

Frank throws him a disgusted look. Tommy ignores it and leans over the counter, staring at Frank. Frank stares back, challenging, but Tommy's not backing down, and finally Frank sighs and breaks eye contact. "We got a little carried away, okay? Heat of the moment.”

"Oh, like I believe that bullshit," Tommy says when Frank moves away. "I’m sure this was all you. Gerard was an innocent bystander. So fess up. What'd you do?" He grins. "Rip one of Gerard’s precious drawings? Talk about another guy and bring out his latent possessive, caveman instincts? Tell him you actually don't like _Doom Patrol_? All of the above?"

Frank’s bad at playing innocent (and lying), so his immediate guilty fidgeting is not unexpected when Tommy presses the issue.

"...Something like that."

Tommy laughs, short and loud. Oh, Frank. "And I'm sure whatever it was, it wasn't on accident."

Frank scowls. “I hate you.”

Tommy _tsks_ at him, shaking his head.

"I have to, okay?!" Frank bursts out. "He _is_ vanilla. He likes missionary and lots of kissing and wants it slow and sweet. Not that I don't like that!" Frank says hastily and Tommy just raises his eyebrows. "But not all the time. He's so passionate, you know? About his art and music, and I just want him to be that passionate about _me_. But he's always so fucking _gentle_. I want him to just _attack_ me because he wants me so bad."

Frank rubs at the back of his neck, flushing a bit. "So I have to... _encourage_ him to get a little more adventurous.”

“By pissing him off?” Tommy asks. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“It is not,” Frank insists. “Make-up sex is the best way.” He smiles, and it’s dreamy. “And trust me, it’s fucking _awesome_.”

Here, Tommy’s nose scrunches because Gerard getting kinky in bed is not something he wants to think about. Maybe the last thing he ever wants to think about. Well, second to last. Frank in bed would be the last, definitely.

Then Frank frowns. “But then he's always so fucking weird after,” he says, brow furrowing. “And the sex is like, even more fucking gentle for days after. It's like he wants to avoid me, but he can't actually do it. I barely get eye contact when we're not in bed, but when we are, he won't _stop_ staring at me, all tender and intense and fixated."

Tommy stares at Frank a moment, disbelieving, and then shakes his head, chuckling. This is really way too much information, but Frank seems so confused – even though it’s pretty fucking obvious what’s going on - that Tommy feels it's his duty as the best friend to help Frank out. "Only you, Frank. Jesus fucking Christ." He rolls his eyes. "You are a fucking dumbass. Just fucking talk to him."

Tommy takes a deep breath. "It's not that hard. Obviously, Gerard _is_ passionate about you. Clearly–and this is the important part, so pay attention-, he doesn't want to 'scare you with his passion,' or something ridiculous like that, so he tries to control himself. And when you trick him into letting go-which you shouldn’t do, by the way-, he gets embarrassed.”

Frank's head cocks to the side as he presumably considers this.

Really, Tommy’s not sure what he was expecting in response to his (very insightful and completely correct) advice, but it was more than the simple, not-quite-convinced "You think?" that Frank gives him.

" _Yes_.” Fuck, it’s like Frank doesn’t even appreciate him and his sage advice. “Jesus. Communication. Fuck, I don't get paid enough for this. I'm not some relationship therapist, for fuck's sake."

Frank just smiles really big and says, "Thanks, Tommy!" And then he bounds over and kisses Tommy wetly on the cheek with a great, loud smacking sound. "You're so smart."

“I know,” he deadpans. He makes a face and pretends to gag while he exaggeratedly wipes Frank's spit off his face. "Yuck. Save that for Gerard."

Even as he says it, he's trying not to smile. Frank can be ridiculously endearing when he wants to be, the tiny fucker.

"You wish I'd kiss you like I kiss Gerard,” Frank says, rolling back on the balls of his feet, that stupid grin still on his face.

"I really, really don't."

"Uh-huh. You _love_ me," Frank singsongs, beaming.

"Fuck knows why I do," Tommy says. "Adam and I never fight, you know. Something you may want to try."

Frank looks scandalized. "Never?!"

Frank says it like it’s the weirdest thing he’s ever heard.

"No. Why would we fight?” Tommy shrugs. “I don't have to piss him off to get him to fuck me how I want."

"But make-up sex!" Frank's practically yelling, flailing all over the place.

Tommy's infinitely grateful that there aren't any customers in the shop right now to witness this. He and Frank would probably get fired.

"You can't have make-up sex without fighting! It's the best kind!"

"Debatable," Tommy says. He grins and winks at Frank. "But when we’re in the mood, we just role-play make-up sex. All the payoff without the stress."

Frank's eyes get really big when Tommy says this. "Dude," he breathes, sounding awed. "That's a fucking _awesome_ idea."

"Yeah, I know," Tommy says, because it _was_ one of his better ideas (and Adam's really hot when he's pretending to be mad, all growly and up in Tommy's space, flushed and out of breath, and there’s something indefinably sweet about even pretend rough, angry sex turning into tender, gentle worshiping sex), but Frank's not listening anymore. He's already pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and his fingers are hurriedly flying across the touchscreen.

"Gerard!" he fucking _gushes_ into the phone. "I have a great idea!"

Tommy rolls his eyes and goes back to wiping the counter, tuning out Frank's excited squealing. He really should charge by the hour.

 

 **END**

Sequel: [I'll Take Mine Black](http://archiveofourown.org/works/249223)


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